A Bond Never Broken
by A Change in Pace
Summary: While cleaning an old house for community service, three girls stumble upon some interesting items and end up stuck in 3 worlds: Sherlock Holmes, Pirates of the Caribbean and Pride & Prejudice. A bit of a crossover, tons of pairings, and all fangirl! R&R!
1. The Beginning of the End

Hi everyone! Thanks for reading! We are a group totally awesome writers and this is our joint account here on FanFiction. We are: Zenappa, The Sock That Never Stays Orange, and A Pirate By Any Other Name. This is our first story together. Just so you can tell which of us is which in these Author's Notes, here's a key:

Zenappa's comments will be normal.  
The Sock That Never Stays Orange's comments will be in _italics._  
A Pirate By Any Other Name's comments will be in **bold.**

So there you have it!

**Summary:**Three girls (Emerald, Ophelia and Rose) are minding their own business, busying themselves cleaning out an old house for community service when they stumble across a room full of paintings. They soon discover that there's more than meets the eye, soon they find themselves in the middle of three worlds: Sherlock Holmes, Pirates of the Caribbean and Pride & Prejudice. A bit of a crossover, tons of pairings, and all fangirl! There's something for everyone to enjoy!

**We'll be taking turns writing each chapter. This first chapter was written by me (A Pirate By Any Other Name) I hope you enjoy! Please read and review! We love reviews! Thank you! :)**

Hello my lovelies! Welcome to our wonderful story. As the wonderful Tiff has pointed out, this is a collaberation story which will hopefully evolve into many more. But in order to do that, you need to leave a review! Seriously, we live on them. No joke, no lie. And who wouldn't want to pass up a chance to contact the three of the best FanFiction authors directly? We love you all and are looking forward to hearing from all of you!

Zenna :D

_Uh...I don't really think I have anything to add, apart from the fact that I'm writing all Ophelia's part. XD_

So without further ado...

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**Chapter 1: We're In This Together...Or Not.**

"Rose, tell me again why you signed us up for this job?" Emerald whined from behind a stack of dusty boxes. I sighed.

"Because Em, it's spring term and we still have't completed our required community service." I waved a hand in front of my face, brushing away the dust particles that floated about the room like a golden snowfall.

Emerald huffed as she shifted one of the larger boxes. "Yeah, but why did you have to pick the one job that will take the longest, get us the dirtiest, and-" she wrinkled her nose against the dust, "-is the most boring of all the jobs listed?"

I poked my head over the box in her hands to stare down at her. "Boring?" I asked incredulously. "What do you mean? We get to explore a house that is over one-hundred years old! Who knows what we'll find?" I jumped back, twirling about excitedly and stirred up a ton more dust.

"Achoo!" sneezed Ophelia, the dainty redhead. She appeared from around the corner, carrying a large stack of old books. "Actually, I agree with Rose, Em. Look at these books! All _first_ editions! Do you have any idea what these could be worth?" I beamed at her and bounded over to see what she had found, my chocolate brown eyes glittering excitedly. Emerald shook her head, her straight blonde hair swinging back and forth in its ponytail and stepped over the piles of books and papers that littered the floor of the room we were in.

"_Treasure Island, A Tale of Two Cities, Persuasion, _and _Wuthering Heights_? This is amazing!" Emerald said, her blue eyes wide. Ophelia smiled and sighed dramatically.

"Isn't though? Oh, how I wish I could keep just one of these!"

I bit my lip. "Technically, you could. I asked the woman in charge of clearing this place out, and she said most of the stuff would just get thrown out, but if we found anything valuable, turn it in to her, because the city is selling whatever it can in an auction since the old lady who owed this place didn't have any living family." I looked at my nails. "No one would ever know they were here. Nothing is catalogued."

"Rose Meredith Adams! I could do no such thing. That would be wrong and you know it!" Ophelia gave me a stern look. Even though at nineteen, she's the youngest of us and I am the oldest at twenty-two, most of the time I feel like the younger one, because Ophelia is so proper and responsible. I comes from reading all those classics, I know it. Damn English majors.

I threw my hands up in surrender. "I know, I know! I was just saying."

Emerald laughed. "You know better than to joke like that with Ophelia! She's always reprimanding you, Rose."

"I guess it's because I deserve it, don't I?" I asked, joining Emerald in laughing. Ophelia shook her head, but I could see a smile playing about her lips.

"Yes, you do," she told me. "Now I'm going to take these books out to the auction truck. Maybe they'll tell me that they're not worth auctioning off after all..." Her hopeful voice trailed off as she disappeared out the door.

Em and I looked at each other for a moment before heading back to the piles of old junk that need sorting through. "Well, back to work," Emerald grumbled. Despite my adventurous spirit, I understood how she felt. The old lady who had lived in this old house must have been a pack rat, because there were boxes and boxes of books, papers, clothes, household items, blankets, decorations, and other baubles that filled every room in the house. The room we were sorting through now had been some sort of library or study at one point. There were several bookshelves, a large oak desk, and a couple squashy orange chairs about the room, buried under the piles of boxes and baubles.

A loud creak of an old drawer being pulled open filled the room as Emerald opened the middle drawer of the big desk. "Look at this!" she called, motioning me over with her arm. I hurried to her side.

"What did you find?" I asked, peering over her shoulder. I was slightly taller than her, so it was easy.

"It's a magnifying glass," Emerald said, holding it up for me to see. It had a thick pewter handle wrapped in leather. I could see worn spots where the previous owner had gripped it. "Whoever owned it had bigger hands than me," said Emerald fitting her hand around the handle.

"It's still pretty cool," I said. "You should keep it."

"What? Why?"

"Because you are studying Criminal Justice," I said, as though it were obvious. "And your forefathers used these to solve mysteries. It's just right that you should have one. Besides, I'm pretty sure they won't want to auction this off."

"I'm studying Psychology too," Emerald said impetuously, but smiled at it all the same. "Fine," she said and slipped it into the pocket of her sweater. Then she went back cleaning out the desk. I grinned and went back to the boxes in the corner.

"And just what are you two grinning about?" Ophelia demanded when she came back into the room. She had both hands on her hips, so I guessed they didn't let her keep one of the books. Dirt was smudged on her freckled nose and on her faded pink t-shirt which read in capital letters, "I'D RATHER BE READING JANE AUSTEN".

"Nothing," I said innocently, and Emerald laughed.

"I found this old magnifying glass, and Rose suggested I keep it," she said, holding it up for Ophelia to see. I put a hand to my forehead.

"How fascinating!" said Ophelia, then blushed. She reached into her pants pocket and pulled something out. "Actually, I found something as well." Emerald and I rushed over to see what it was. In her palm was large skeleton key. Our eyes widened.

"Oh, it's gold!" exclaimed Emerald. I peered at it more closely.

"Can I see it?" I asked. Ophelia nodded and handed it over. I brought it up to my face and scanned the design. "It's just gold-plated, Em," I said, after turning it over in my hands a few times. "Gold plated for this design, and the rest of it looks like iron." Emerald gave me a look. "What?" I said defensively. "I've been taking a metal-working class."

Emerald threw her hands up. "Artists!" she exclaimed. I grinned.

"Are you going to keep it?" I asked Ophelia. "Or does that go against your sensibilities?"

Ophelia pretended to be miffed. "Actually, I already asked the man down at the auction truck whether I could have it," she sniffed. "And he said yes."

Emerald grinned and I laughed. "Brilliant! Now it's just me who needs to find a souvenir from this little adventure."

"Perhaps if you spent more time actually cleaning than stirring up dust, you would," Emerald said dryly.

I put a hand to my heart. "You wound me, Em." The three of us looked at each other for a moment and burst into laughter.

I didn't find anything worth keeping right away. We spent the next hour and a half cleaning the study, and when we had finally cleared out everything except the furniture, we moved to the next room, which was a bedroom. A large canopy bed sat in the middle of the floor, bowed by the weight of the blankets and boxes on top of it and there was a dusty vanity table covered in twenty year old bottles of perfume on the far side of the room. Several cedar chests lined the wall beside the walk-in closet, and when Ophelia opened the tall wardrobe, three huge white moths flew out of it, causing us all to scream.

"I'm not going under there," Ophelia announced when it was time to clear off the bed. She looked at me and Emerald.

"Nose goes!" cried Emerald quickly putting her finger on her nose. Ophelia did the same.

_"_Ugh, I _hate_ this game," I complained. I eyed the bed distastefully. "Let's get this stuff off the mattress first, so it doesn't collapse me when I pull whatever is under there out." We carefully lifted the boxes and wool blankets off the bed, keeping a wary eye out for mice or any other living thing that might have taken up residence in the pile, but aside from a few more moths, the only thing in there was dust. Once the bed was clear, I got down on my hands and knees and peered under the bed.

"Have either of you got a flashlight?" I asked and looked back up at them. They shook their heads. I sighed.

"Well, here goes nothing then," I said and crawled under the bed. It was extremely dirty and there were dust bunnies the size of my face. _It's a good thing those guys are friendly, _I thought.

"Coming out!" I called and started pushing boxes out from under the bed for Emerald and Ophelia to pick up. When I thought I had gotten everything, I started to slide myself out, but then a something caught my eye. At first I thought it was a book, but as I reached out and grabbed it I realized it was a flat wooden box, like those cheap boxes you could buy at a craft store and decorate yourself. I hugged the box to my chest and pushed myself out form under the bed.

Upon seeing me, both Emerald and Ophelia burst into laughter. "You're filthy!" cried Ophelia.

"And your hair!" choked out Emerald. I huffed as I stood up and walked over to the vanity to see my reflection. My wavy brown hair, which had fallen loose of its hair tie spilled over my shoulders and was covered in gray dust. It made me look ten years older.

"Ha, ha, very funny guys," I said, setting the box on the table and trying to get the dust out of my hair with my fingers. The dust was all over my clothes as well. I was wearing a loose, one-shouldered maroon blouse, a frayed, faded pair of blue jeans, and a pair of black flats. "I think this officially gets me out of dinner duty for tonight," I said a bit smugly. I hated to cook.

"I'll do it," Emerald offered, still laughing at the sight of dust-cover me. I brushed the dirt off of my best I could, but I looked like dirty gypsy.

"Do either of you have a hair tie I can borrow? I seem to have lost mine," I asked. Ophelia pulled one off of her wrist and handed to me. "Thanks," I said pulling back my unruly locks. "We'll have to go home to eat lunch now; I can't possibly to go out like this," I said gesturing at my clothes.

The two of them nodded. "That's fine," Ophelia said. "I've got some chicken salad in the fridge, I'll make us some sandwiches when we get back."

Emerald had finally stopped laughing, and her sharp eyes caught sight of the box I had set on the vanity. "What's that?" she asked.

I picked it up. "I don't know. It was under the bed," I said. It was a slide-open box, like the kind matches came in. I pushed on one end and it stuck for a moment, then popped open. A bunch of brown paper was stuffed inside. I looked at it curiously and pulled out the paper, piece by piece. Finally I found a piece that was wrapped around something hard. Carefully I unrolled it and then let out a gasp. There in the center of the paper, was a gold pirate medallion.

"This is it!" I cried excitedly. "This is my souvenir!"

"You can't keep that!"Ophelia said with wide eyes. "It's gold! And there's a gem in the center. It could be worth something," she insisted. I raised my eyebrows.

"They let you keep your gold-plated key," I argued. "And this isn't even as big as that. Besides, I'm sure it's just a cheap gem, something common, like garnet. Either way, I'm keeping it."

Ophelia looked to Emerald to support. Emerald bit her lip and shrugged. "She has a point, Ophelia. Plus, she did crawl under that pox-infested bed to get it. I think she deserves it." I beamed at her.

"Thanks Em," I said.

"Oh, fine," said Ophelia. I slipped the necklace over my head and let it fall under my blouse. The metal was cool against my skin and I shivered for a moment.

"I think that is a enough cleaning for this morning, girls," I said. "And I think we should explore a bit before heading back to the apartment for lunch. Scope out what's left to do. The clean-up team wants this place empty and ready for demolition by Saturday. That only gives us seven days to finish up, and we've only done the east wing. We haven't even looked in the west wing."

Emerald jumped forward. "I'm game," she said. "What about you, Ophelia?"

She shrugged. "Why not? It's better than cleaning, anyway." I grinned and bounded forward, the medallion bouncing against my chest.

"Then what are we waiting for?" We dashed down the hallway to the front hall, where a grand staircase lead to an upper level of the house and the west wing.

"Why would anyone want to tear a place like this down?" asked Ophelia, looking around. I knew she was thinking of Pemberley, because she had her "Austen face" as I called it on. She gazed dreamily at the staircase and over to the foyer, possibly imagining the grand balls that could have been held here. "They should renovate it instead," she said sadly.

"The town wants a parking garage more," Emerald said matter-of-factly.

"Sad isn't it?" I said a bit impatiently. "So that's why we have to enjoy and admire it while it's still here!" I turned and headed up the stairs. Emerald and Ophelia followed and we made our way through the big house slowly.

We peeked into room after room, parlors, bedrooms, bathrooms, broom cupboards, sitting rooms, a dining room, and even a grand room that could have been a ballroom. We amused ourselves by waltzing across its huge floor. One hallway we went down was covered in ugly paintings of people dressed in fine gowns and suits. I laughed at them.

"I think this family needed a better painter," I said, then reconsidered it. "Or maybe they were just ugly people." We all laughed.

Finally we came to a large bedroom suite, which opened up to a balcony overseeing the back yard, had an joining bathroom, and not one, but two walk-in closets.

"Can I have a room this big?" asked Emerald, impressed.

"If you can pay the rent," I teased. Ophelia grinned.

"It's almost as big as our entire flat!" she said and brushed a red curl that had fallen loose from her bun out of her face.

"I know, " I said, nodding. I walked into one of the closets. It was oddly empty, unlike the other one, which was filled with old dresses, suits, and hat boxes. I looked around, staring at the peeling walls. It was a shame really, that such a big house was being torn down. Ophelia was right, it could be amazing if it were restored.

I frowned as my eyes passed over a section of the wall that was lighter than the others. _Odd_, I thought and started walked towards it to examine the paint. Suddenly my pants got caught on a loose nail in the floor and I pitched forward, slamming into the wall, which trembled then gave way. I fell to the floor with a crash.

"Rose? What happened?" called Emerald and Ophelia. I heard them come running. I winced, afraid to see the damage I had inflicted on the wall, and when I opened my eyes, my mouth dropped open.

"What-?" Emerald stopped mid cry to gape at the hole in the wall and Ophelia just stood with her mouth open. Before us, instead of the rough brick of the outer house wall, as I had expected to see, was a large circular room filled with massive paintings, each of them at least twelve feet high and six feet across.

Wordlessly I pushed myself to my feet and rubbed the paint chips from my hands and arms. My motion seemed to bring my friends back to the present because they both rushed forward.

"Are you okay?" asked Ophelia.

"You scared me half to death with that crash!" said Emerald.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I just wanted to see why part of the wall was painted different than the others, and I tripped. The wall just gave way. Must have been a door at one point. I wonder why they sealed it off?" I looked around in awe of the paintings. Unlike the ones of the people that lined the hallway, these paintings were all landscapes and painted with exquisite detail. The one nearest to the door depicted an old street and apartment building. An arch over the walkway to the building read, "221B Baker Street". The atmosphere of the place was grey and overcast and I could almost imagine I smelled a hint of rain on the air just looking at it. The second of the differed completely from the first and showed a bright country scene, with a dirt road winding through the grass. In the distance a large house loomed, looking quite like the one they were cleaning might have looked in its prime. Everything was green and peaceful looking, and for this one I could imagine I felt a bit of a summer breeze blowing out of the frame, carrying with it the warm rays of the summer sun. The final painting was also different from either of the first two. It showed the top deck of a ship, one that would have sailed in the 1600s, with large dark sails full of wind and the lines of the rigging pulled tight. Past the railing of the ship the ocean spanned out, seeming to continue on forever, the horizon a thin line in the distance, marked by a fiery orange sun. At this one I inhaled deeply, as if I could taste the salty sea air on my tongue.

"They look so real," breathed Ophelia. "Like you could just step right through them."

"I know," I said, the awe still plain in my voice. "Amazing." I stepped forward and held out a finger to touch the painting of the ship. It was so real-looking, even the waves seemed to move up and down.

"Wait!" shouted Emerald suddenly. I froze, my finger mere inches from the painting. "Have either of you noticed there's no dust in this room?"

I stepped back. "So?"

"So," said Emerald, her tone sounding a bit patronizing, "isn't that odd? I mean, the rest of the house is covered in dust. But this room here looks like it's just been cleaned." I glanced around a bit doubtfully. She was right. Even the frames on the paintings gleamed as though they had been polished that very day.

"What's your point?" I asked, glancing back at the painting. _If I could just touch it..._

"My point is, something weird is going on here," Emerald said authoritatively. The medallion seemed to burn around my neck as I stared at the painting.

"That's not a very good point," I said petulantly.

"I think she's got a good point," said Ophelia suddenly. "There is something odd about this room. Can't you feel it, Rose?"

"Yes!" I said, feeling a bit desperate. "It feels magical. It's the effect of these paintings. I just want to see..." I broke off and reached out to touch the painting again.

"No!" said Emerald and Ophelia together. I ignored them and continued to stretch out my finger until at last, I touched the painting. My eyes widened in surprise. Instead of feeling a smooth, painted-on canvas, my finger felt as though I were touching a pool of water.

"You guys," I started, and pushed a little more firmly against the painting. To my utter shock, my finger slipped right through, as if it were going into the painting, and not tearing through the canvas. "Guys-" I never got to finish my sentence, because all at once the medallion around my throat burned and I felt a sucking sensation around my middle, as though I was being pulled forward. I reached to grab the painting's frame to stop myself, but it was no use. I heard a scream and I looked over just in time to see Ophelia disappear into the painting of the countryside. "Ophelia!" I shouted.

A second scream was heard and I saw Emerald holding onto the frame of the painting of 221B Baker Street. Her legs had already disappeared into the frame. "Em!" I called out to her. She looked up at me, a look of desperation on her face. Her fingers were slipping. "Em!" I shouted again and tried to walk towards her, but the force that was pulling me was too strong. "Em!" I screamed one more time as her fingers finally lost their grip and she disappeared into the painting.

The medallion around my throat was burning white hot now, and I reached up to pull it from my neck. The motion however loosened my grip on the frame and I suddenly found myself being pitched forward into the painting of the ship. I looked back and the now empty room full of paintings was the last thing I saw before utter darkness swallowed me.


	2. Darkness

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone! It's little old me Zenappa, or Zenna, or Zenaynay, or basically whatever you wish to call me. So I hope you all enjoyed last chapter, I know I did! Our pal Tiff is just a fabulous writer isn't she? Wonderful work, a round of applause for you my friend! Anyway, this next chapter is from the point of view of Emerald, my character. In this chapter, it picks up where the last one left off and you begin to see just what's happened to these girls. This is going to be a wonderful story and I'm looking forward to many more adventures! :D Enjoy! Oh and don't forget to review!

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Sherlock Holmes, Pirates of the Caribbean, Pride and Prejudice or basically anything else that we mention lol. I, Zenappa, own Emerald Maitland, Tiff (A Pirate by Any Other Name) owns Rose, and The Sock That Never Stays Orange owns Ophelia. K? Cool. And we all own the amazingly awesome plotline. Yep, I think that's it! :D

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**A Bond Never Broken**

**Chapter 2: Darkness**

From the moment that Rose touched the painting, I knew that our lives were about to be changed forever. I knew that something was bound to happen that would alter the very fabric of the human nature. I knew that we were no longer going to be the same. Actually, it all started when Rose stumbled upon the painting room in the old house. It's always Rose causing all the trouble, naturally. But this time, I actually might have to thank her for what she's done.

Darkness.

That's what I awoke to some hours later. I attempted to sit up, my mind spinning wildly. I held my head for a moment before all of the memories came flooding back into my brain. I groaned and collapsed on the ground again. The last thing I remembered was the three of us getting pulled in separate directions, almost seemingly through the paintings. My eyes blinked and adjusted to the sudden darkness of the sky. When had it gotten so dark out? How long was I out? As much as I wanted to get up and check if Ophelia and Rose were alright, I was feeling pretty stuck. I really didn't want to move, my whole body ached like I was just launched off the side of a bridge and run over by a semi-truck when in all probability, we just hit our heads on the paintings and blacked out.

Assuming was my first mistake.

I groaned and rolled over on my other side, trying to wake myself up enough to check on the others. Even though I wasn't the oldest or I didn't act like the oldest, I felt a responsibility over these girls. They were my best friends and if anything ever happened to them, I honestly don't know what I'd do. Finally opening my eyes completely, I blinked heavily, expecting to see Rose or Ophelia lying next to me in the same position I was. My ears buzzed with unexpected sounds, as if I wasn't hearing anything before, and a loud screech sounded by my ear. I rolled back on my original side, ready to call off Ophelia for making her annoying animal noises again, but she wasn't there. Frowning, I glanced upwards and screamed. A horse was standing over me, its hooves clomping in my ear, and I immediately jumped to my feet.

"Sorry!" I called to whoever was yelling at me and the horse passed, followed by a carriage it was pulling. I frowned, why use a carriage when you could just grab a taxi? I shook my head, now fully awake and it was then that I realized that I wasn't in the abandoned house anymore. What I thought was the cold hardwood floor of the painting room was actually a cobblestone street! I breathed in and out heavily and leaned against a nearby telephone booth for support. I took a double take; a telephone booth? Where the hell was I?

Taking a step back, I examined my surroundings for the first time and what I found frightened me. While it certainly looked like London, it wasn't the London that I knew. Instead of skyscrapers, big shopping centers and cars, there were little boutiques on the corners of streets, horses and buggies to pull people around and the tallest building that I could see for miles was a bridge in the distance.

"Rose?" I called, spinning around myself, looking for my friends. "Ophelia? This isn't funny!"

Wherever my friends were, they weren't responding and this scared me. Normally, I was the prankster of the bunch and I seriously doubted that they would want to scare me this badly. We just wouldn't do that to each other… Which only meant one thing: I was alone.

Being alone was one of my worst fears, along with spiders naturally. Every step of my life, I always had someone there with me. Whether it be my mother or my best friend, someone was always there for me, ready to catch me if I fell. Now, I had no one and that was the scariest feeling in the world. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. No service. _Just peachy,_ I thought and moved away from the telephone booth as someone stepped in. I glanced at the man and almost fell over in surprise. This man looked so familiar and yet - it couldn't be, could it?

I examined what he was wearing and my notions in my head dwindled. This wasn't some fairytale story, this was real life! But suddenly, I wasn't so sure anymore. I looked the man up and down and my mind started churning like it did when I was solving a case for my Criminal studies. He was wearing a gray coat with a white collared shirt underneath it and what looked like a black tie but I couldn't get any closer without making it seem like I was scrutinizing him, which indeed I was. His gray pants and black shoes matched perfectly with his coat and tie which made me think that he was well brought up but the one thing that threw me off completely was his waistcoat. He was wearing a waistcoat.

I stumbled backwards, smacking into a person behind who just grumbled to watch it and headed in the opposite direction. I didn't even notice that I had hit a person either, all I knew was one thing. In the telephone booth, standing in front of me, was someone who looked exactly like Jude Law.

Was I somehow in Los Angeles? Was this part of-

My mind trailed off and I got that dreamy look over my eyes as I usually did when I was thinking about Sherlock Holmes. That had to be the solution! I was on the Sherlock Holmes 3 set! I didn't know that they had already started filming! I frowned, the main question to be concerned with however was how I got here. I glanced over at Jude Law who was still muttering into the telephone and heaved a deep sigh, reflecting on what had happened right before I blacked out.

_"Uh guys?" Rose squirmed as she touched the painting. I glanced over at my friend and blinked heavily. It almost seemed like her hand was going through the painting! I frowned from where I was admiring the painting of an old-fashioned London town. It seemed so real and lifelike, I didn't blame Rose for wanting to touch them. But I had stuck to my guns and known that something wasn't quite right. Call me crazy but there was something in the air that I just couldn't understand. My friends called it the "Sherlock" inside my brain doing the talking which is what probably attracted me to the painting of none other than 221b Baker Street. Whoever had painted these must have been so talented, I almost wanted to meet them and request a painting of my own. _

_I opened my mouth to say something back to Rose but a squeal from the opposite side of the room cut me off. I glanced over my shoulder to see Ophelia cocking her head and scrutinizing every inch of the countryside painting she was adoring. I rolled my eyes, she was probably just realizing something that the painting had to do with Pride and Prejudice or something like that. I sighed, thoroughly annoyed and took a step away from the painting. Or, I tried to. _

_A sudden pain in my chest made me almost double over in pain and it felt like my heart was on fire. I gasped for air and reached into my jacket, shedding it off in an attempt to get rid of the burning sensation. A loud clanking noise sounded and I looked around at my friends but they didn't seem to notice. They were way too enthralled in their own paintings to even notice that something was wrong. I bent down to pick up whatever fell and I took a quick intake of breath._

_It was the magnifying glass._

_As I slipped my hands around the handle, my hands burned with the same sensation that my chest did before. As much as it hurt, I didn't want to let go, for fear that something worse would happen. _

_A more panicked cry came from Rose as she started slipping into the painting. I frowned and turned to Ophelia, sure I was imagining the entire thing. But as I glanced over at my red haired friend, she too seemed to be falling _into_ the painting. I blinked heavily, what was in my punch this morning? But then a dragging sensation came over me and I knew that this was somehow real. I just knew that there was something wrong with this room and now it was all coming true. The last thing I remembered was glancing into Rose's equally panicked face before losing consciousness completely._

A loud clicking noise shook me out of my reverie and I glanced upward to see Jude Law or his impersonator stepping out of the telephone booth. This couldn't be real could it? I couldn't have actually fallen through the painting; I obviously just bashed my head against the wall and blacked out. But how did I get to Los Angeles? That was the real question. Was I kidnapped? Did I go there voluntarily and I just couldn't remember? If so, that was pretty frightening. I hissed as I snapped back to reality. Well, there was only one way to find answers.

I had to follow Jude Law.

He didn't seem like a very suspicious man, he kept in character as the Doctor John Watson we all know and love and didn't falter for an instant. He was a better actor than I presumed! I followed him down the streets, or what was built to look like the streets of London. I, for one, knew better. Why else would it seem like the 1800s when it clearly was not? Why else would Jude Law be dressed in character as Watson and acting like him? The only thing I was looking forward to, other than figuring out the mystery and returning home of course, was seeing Robert Downey Jr. I hoped he was on set today, that would be the best thing in the world. I almost squealed with delight, blowing my cover and I grabbed a large hat and placed it strategically over my head. The rest of my face was shielded and I smiled a tiny smile for the first time since I got here. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

As Jude kept walking, I followed him from a distance in case he was to look back and see him stalking him. That would be embarrassing and I'm pretty sure that my being here wasn't in the script. I tried to stay unnoticed but I couldn't help but admire the wonderful paintings and sets in the Sherlock Holmes world. They were amazing and so lifelike; I had to remember to appreciate the sets in movies more from now on. After for what seemed like miles and miles of just walking down the "London" streets, Jude stopped in front of a familiar looking building. I gasped inwardly and then hid myself from view, hoping I didn't give myself away. For this very building was none other than the famous 221b Baker Street.

I bit my lip in apprehension as I watched Jude bang on the door loudly.

"Holmes?" he shouted, clearly annoyed by something.

There was dead silence before Jude dug into his pockets, emerged with an old-fashioned looking key, and placed it into the key hole. It turned effortlessly and I smirked, knowing Watson wouldn't have the sense to return the key in situations like this. I stood there, just watching curiously, as Jude disappeared inside, leaving me alone outside. I knew I probably looked like a lunatic but I couldn't help myself, it was just too grand and beautiful not to stare. I was just waiting for the director to yell cut and move onto the next scene but to my surprise, nothing happened. In fact, nothing out of the ordinary like that had happened since I arrived here, awakened on the street.

Something wasn't right.

"You're quite right," a voice came from behind me, making me jump and turn around in apprehension. I hadn't realized I voiced my opinions aloud.

When I saw who the man was, I almost fell over and died right then and there on the spot. Yes, standing in front of me, addressing me like I was just another girl on the busy streets of London, was Robert Downey Jr.

I looked from side to side before I realized that the famous actor was actually talking to me.

"Oh my God," I managed to spit out. "You're - you're - you're Robert Downey Jr."

Rob frowned, "Well I don't know who this Downey character is, but I'm certainly not him. My name is Sherlock Holmes."

I raised an eyebrow cautiously, attempting to catch my breath and speak normally, not like some crazed fan that I obviously was on the inside. "Yes I know you're playing Sherlock Holmes right now," I said. "But in real life, off the set I mean, you're the actor Robert Downey Jr."

Rob shook his head; he was obviously sticking with his act. I shrugged my shoulders, I didn't know he was one of _those _actors. Whatever he wanted to do and say wasn't my business, just him standing in front of me right now was all I needed. I could die happy now…

Shaking me out of my fan-crazed thoughts, Rob spoke to me directly again and I tried my best to stay calm the second time. "What are you doing here in front of my house?" he questioned.

"I honestly don't know."

"Why were you following Doctor Watson here?" Rob just wouldn't let up with the questions.

"I needed answers!" I demanded, throwing my hands up in the air.

"Answers to what exactly?"

"Why I'm here, why you and Jude are acting this way, why nothing is making sense!" I just simply couldn't take it anymore so I collapsed on the doorstep and put my head in my hands.

Rob stood there for a moment before sighing and taking a seat next to me. I could tell he was acting awkward and frozen almost around me which made me suspicious. Why was he acting this way? He's an actor; he should be able to handle anything!

"Is there anything I can help with?" Rob asked me curiously and I could tell that he meant well, it just wasn't working out the same way that I hoped.

"Not really."

"I am a master detective after all," he commented, smirking in my direction. "The best consulting detective there is!"

"You're the only consulting detective there is," I pointed out with a smile, lifting my head up.

He leaned back, holding his hands to his chest like he was wounded. I laughed, this seemed less like the Sherlock in him and more like the actor.

"Would you like to come inside and maybe then we can talk about your case?" he offered and I nodded slowly. Maybe he was confused…

"Of course I would love to 'come inside,'" I made air quotes with my hands. "But you do know that it's just a set right. It doesn't really exist."

"Your language confuses me," Rob pointed out, wrinkling his forehead. "Of course my apartment is real, you can see it right there."

"But when we walk inside, it won't be real," I promised, standing up. I was determined to prove Rob wrong, that's definitely not something you can do every day.

I opened the door which Jude had left unlocked and stepped into the grand foyer. I froze in my spot, appalled at the sight that greeted me. I was expecting to see cameras and lights and crew everywhere, setting up the next scene. Even if that's not what was there, this was not what I was expecting at all. What I saw was a full apartment with no flaws whatsoever which could only mean one thing.

This wasn't a set. This was all real.

I was in the middle of the Sherlock Holmes universe.

I stood there, frozen in place like a statue. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say, everything just seemed to freeze or move in slow motion. I barely heard movement behind me, signaling that Rob was entering the apartment behind me. Except he wasn't Rob, he was actually Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh my God," I felt faint and collapsed to my knees for the second time that day, holding a hand to my head. "This is not happening."

"Are you alright?" came a worried voice from behind me and I couldn't breathe or talk or do anything except think of how this could even be possible.

"WATSON!" he bellowed from behind me and I heard hurried footsteps pounding down the stairs to stand next to me.

"Who is this?" the person that I presumed to be Jude Law knelt next to me. But he wasn't Jude Law after all, he was the real thing. He was Doctor John Watson. This was so hard to grasp, I just simply couldn't do it anymore.

"Some girl who followed you home and was spitting stories about us," Rob - er Sherlock said from behind me.

"Really?" Watson cocked an eyebrow at his old friend. "What kind of stories?"

"Like how this wasn't real and how we weren't really ourselves, it was quite bizarre actually. Can you take a look at her? I fear she may be delusional."

With that statement, I snapped myself back to reality and clambered to my feet. "I am most certainly not delusional!"

"Well that worked," Holmes smirked, stepping away from the doorway.

"So you really are Sherlock Holmes," I whispered, shaking my head. This was going to take some getting used to. "And Doctor John Watson."

Watson bent and kissed my hand like a proper Englishman would, "Pleasure to meet you Miss… Uh Miss.."

"Miss Maitland," I smiled a true smile at Watson, he seemed like the kind of guy that I would instantly get along with. "Emerald Maitland at your service."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Watson repeated, straightening up and turning to Holmes. Holmes coughed and nodded to me; I noticed how uncomfortable things had gotten between us since I entered the apartment.

"I would say the same to the both of you," I replied and glanced around the room, looking for something to do or say.

"So can either of you help me how to get back home?" I questioned.

They both looked at me like I was crazy and I sighed; this was going to be harder than I thought. Getting home seemed like the top priority at the moment but now, I wasn't so sure if I wanted to leave.

A knock at the door interrupted all of us and I jumped, not so sure whether anything was going to happen or not happen anymore. Everything was just confusing and overwhelming at the moment and I wasn't sure how much more I could take. Holmes, who was the closest to the door, stepped over and slowly opened it. A familiar looking man was there but Holmes was shielding most of his face so I couldn't make out much. I frowned, something wasn't right.

"Hello Mr. Holmes," the man said with a smirk and then pulled out his gun and fired.


End file.
